


Cursed in Paradise

by embroiderama



Series: Cursed (de-aged Neal) [1]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Neal and Mozzie fled from Kramer, Neal found the world feeling very big again, and Mozzie found him very small.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cursed in Paradise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [citrinesunset](https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrinesunset/gifts).



> This was written for [](http://citrinesunset.livejournal.com/profile)[**citrinesunset**](http://citrinesunset.livejournal.com/) for [](http://fandom-stocking.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**fandom_stocking**](http://fandom-stocking.dreamwidth.org/). It's set in my [Cursed](http://archiveofourown.org/series/68468) de-aged Neal series, but this is chronologically first and can stand alone.

Mozzie's phone rang, the display showing Neal's new number, but he couldn't think of any good reason for Neal to be calling. They had agreed to meet at Neal's villa for lunch, and Neal was no doubt spending the morning swimming or jogging or otherwise wasting effort that could be better spent on intellectual pursuits. Or napping. Jet lag was, after all, no man's friend and they'd only been in the Cape Verde time zone since the previous afternoon.

When the customary three rings were followed by a second call of one ring and a third call of two rings, Mozzie gave into his curiosity and answered the phone. "Goedemorgen," he said with a near-flawless Dutch accent (if he did say himself).

"Moz, I need you to come over here." The voice wasn't Neal's but rather that of a small child, and Mozzie wasn't sure if Neal was up to something or if he might have been taken hostage by a gang of tiny marauders.

"Who is this," he asked, again in Dutch.

"It's me, Moz. Remember when I told you about what happened in Morocco? With Kate?"

Neal had woven a yarn once about waking up as a small child, much to Kate's horror, and Mozzie hadn't paid much attention to it, but stranger things were certainly true. "Hmm. Code word?"

"Grapefruit," the kid answered, too quickly for him to have asked the real Neal.

"I'm on my way."

Mozzie was careful to make sure he didn't have a tail on the way over, and he checked around Neal's property for unexpected tracks, but there was nothing out of place. On foot, he circled around to the beachfront side of the villa and spotted motion in the lap pool. Looking through binoculars, he saw a small, dark head sticking out of the water; it then disappeared and was replaced by two small bare feet. With a splash, the feet went back under water, and the small head and torso bobbed back up. It was possible that Neal was being held against his will by a circus child, but it seemed increasingly likely that the kid was in fact Neal.

Mozzie let the binoculars drop down to his chest and walked along the beach. When he got close enough to be seen, the boy looked up and waved, then clambered out of the pool, wrapped himself in a towel and ran over to intercept Mozzie's path. "Moz!"

Mozzie caught a glimpse of big, blue eyes before he was captured around the hips by a pair of wiry little arms. "Whoa! Uh. Neal?" Mozzie stood with his hands out at his sides then hesitantly patted the wet, wavy-haired head that was pressed against his stomach.

The kid let go then and backed up enough to look up at Mozzie sheepishly. "Sorry. Just, I'm glad you're here."

That was Neal's face in miniature, no doubt about it. Either the government was finally having success with their human cloning program or Neal had truly been transformed into a child. "You, uh, you looked like you were having fun without me."

Neal shrugged his narrow shoulders and gave Mozzie a tilted frown. "The pool is fun but I don't--I don't--it's too big here for me to be alone." There was true fear in the kid's face, something Mozzie had very rarely seen from his longtime friend. "I didn't want to be here by myself all day or--or at night."

"That sounds prudent." Mozzie nodded.

"But now that you're here, could you go run an errand for me?"

"Possibly. What kind of errand are we discussing?"

"I don't have any clothes." Neal grinned, his fears from a moment ago apparently dismissed, then dropped his towel and ran--naked--back to the pool. Mozzie put a hand over his eyes until he heard a splash then walked closer and gave Neal a quelling look that completely failed to quell him.

"I shall return forthwith."

~~~

Shopping for children's clothes in the local marketplace, Mozzie was glad that they were new enough on the island that the merchants were unlikely to know that he hadn't arrived with a child in tow. He didn't spend much time considering the options, just bought a t-shirt, a pair of shorts and some sandals, all of which looked approximately the right size. He wasn't buying formal wear, after all, so the only requirement was that it fit well enough to stay on and keep Neal from running around the beach naked and getting sunburned in unmentionable places. He tried to err on the side of too big rather than too small; he could still remember the pinch of clothes that were too small, and he wouldn't want to inflict that on Neal.

When Mozzie got back to the villa, Neal was wrapped up in the towel again sitting at a table with some oil pastels and paper. The work in progress was, to put it mildly, not up to Neal's normal standard. When Neal noticed Mozzie looking he turned the paper over and sighed then held up his hands. "They don't work the same, at this size. My fingers are too short, and I don't think I have the fine motor control either. Might as well be doodling with crayons." He pouted, and Mozzie didn't know whether to laugh at him or take him out for non-dairy ice cream.

"Fortunately, nobody's expecting any forgeries from you at present so I don't think you need to worry about it. On the other hand, I've procured clothing in an appropriately diminutive size." He pulled out the bag with a flourish and handed it over to Neal, who smiled.

"Thanks, Moz. I'll go change."

While Neal scampered off to the interior of his villa, Mozzie stepped out of his own sandals and sat down on the edge of the pool with his feet and legs dangling into the water. Neal joined him a few minutes later, now thankfully wearing the brightly colored clothing Mozzie had bought. They sat side by side in silence for a few minutes before Neal spoke up.

"I know this is strange. I'm sorry."

"The world is a strange and wonderful place. There's no need to apologize for the unexpected complexities of nature. Or _super_ nature. I question the timing of your transformation, though."

"Oh, it's the situation, the way the whole world is suddenly open to me again. Well, except for New York that is." Neal mumbled the last half dozen words as he looked down at his feet in the water. "I'll adjust. I always do."

"Until you do, I think that considering our current lack of responsibilities we can act much the same as if you were your normal size. Alcoholic beverages excepted."

Neal gave a small snort of laughter at that. "I'd be a cheap date though, don't you think?"

"Too cheap. I don't like the chances of having to take you to whatever passes for a hospital here with alcohol poisoning."

"Okay, okay."

The day passed quietly, or as quietly as it could with a tiny Neal running around in the sand and whooping at every new inconsequential discovery. He crashed in the afternoon, all of that energy suddenly gone, and as Mozzie carried him into the cooler, shady interior of the villa he couldn't ignore how bizarre it was. Neal was usually six feet of bone and muscle, slim but nonetheless a weight Mozzie would be hard pressed to carry. Now he was a small bundle, warm and limp as Mozzie carried him easily in his arms.

It touched something inside of him that he preferred to keep utterly untouched, and once he had Neal settled under a sheet on the bed Mozzie sought out a bottle of wine and drank two glasses for purely medicinal purposes.

In the evening, they ate dinner then played cards, and while Neal struggled to hold his cards he was as sharp as ever. Mozzie had a sufficient amount of skill with the cards but Neal held his own and won almost half the hands. When they both got tired, Neal talked Mozzie into sharing his bed. It was the only bed in the villa that was prepared with sheets, and it was huge, a vast expanse of mattress and white linens. Mozzie contemplated the possibility of being exposed to some sort of child-Neal virus during the night, but he had to admit that he must have already been exposed to any kind of germs Neal might be shedding.

And Neal, as much as he wanted to remind Mozzie that he was an adult inside, looked legitimately nervous about sleeping alone in the big bed. Mozzie couldn't blame him, and now that he was following this line of thinking he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep in another room for worrying about somebody snatching Neal away through the open windows in the middle of the night. Mozzie completed his nightly ablutions as best he could then settled down on the opposite side of the bed from Neal's small form. It might have been reminiscent of childhood nights when Mozzie had been stuck sharing a bed with some other boy, except that a narrow, polyester-covered bunk in Detroit bore almost no resemblance to this tropical fantasy of a bedroom.

"Night, Moz," Neal whispered, then closed his eyes and appeared to fall asleep instantly.

Mozzie didn't know how long he lay awake keeping watch, but when he woke he found himself being halfway smothered by the arm of a large, sweaty octopus who turned out to be Neal, all grown up again. "Neal," he called as he shoved at the arm that was flung over his face. "Wake up!"

"Hmm?" Neal woke and rolled away then smiled at Moz with his face covered in the beginning of a beard.

"Get up. You owe me mimosas for breakfast."

Neal sat up and looked down at the t-shirt that had been baggy yesterday and was now more in a style befitting a teenaged prostitute. "I owe you more than mimosas, Moz."

Mozzie shrugged, uncomfortable with the notion that he had done something extraordinary. "In any case, I'll accept payment in alcohol."

"Coming right up." Neal rolled out of bed, and Mozzie realized that Neal had somehow ditched the too-small shorts during the night.

"Again with the nakedness? Again?"

Neal just laughed and tugged a sheet around him as he walked away.


End file.
